


The Angel of Death

by ameerkatofficial



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Character Turned Into Vampire, F/M, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Multi, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26005597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameerkatofficial/pseuds/ameerkatofficial
Summary: So my friends and I started watching the Twilight Series ironically and decided that Dr. Carlisle Cullen has way too much sexual tension with basically the entire cast except for literally Esme Cullen. This is the result of that. I hope you enjoy. Or don't enjoy. Whatever is more fun for you.It'll be a long work in progress, however, and tags and relationships are subject to change based on how sleepy I am.
Relationships: Alice Cullen & Carlisle Cullen, Carlisle Cullen & Charlie Swan, Carlisle Cullen & Edward Cullen, Carlisle Cullen & Emmett Cullen, Carlisle Cullen & Jasper Hale, Carlisle Cullen & Rosalie Hale
Kudos: 8





	The Angel of Death

**Author's Note:**

> I realize the age difference between Carlisle and everyone and tbh this is half me being a shit-head to meme on my friends and half me just wanting to write. STFU.

There were days when Carlisle's hands would shake from the pain he felt about the room. He was no stranger to plagues. He had served his time during The Great Plague of London, the plague that had originally cost him his life. Then there was The Great Plague of Marseille, Yellow Fever, Influenza, Polio...Carlisle was no stranger to death. He took the oath to treat it, and treat it as best he could. First, do no harm-- _primum non nocere._ But there were times like these where he felt he could do nothing _but_ harm, no matter how hard he tried. 

The good Mrs. Masen brought her son in on this day. She was a pretty thing, growing only prettier with age. She and Carlisle had been betrothed once, until it was broken off once he told her of his darkest secret. But it was so long ago, and he came to the house to treat the family's ills quite often. There was no ill will, just distant memories that faded into the Illinois fog. 

He had the mother's beauty, 'twas no doubt. He shared her sensuous, rose lips, shape so precisely and so peculiarly like a poppy in heavy bloom. But those sharp eyes under thick, dark brows were the father's, a sensible butcher shop owner just a little ways from the hospital. Even now in his weakened state, that gaze could cut through steel. Luckily, Carlisle's will was stronger. 

"Edward Junior," the boy grasped the doctor's hand, giving it one good shake, before he quickly pulled back into a coughing fit, his good mother grasping his shoulders to soothe him.

"He's in a bad state," she sighed, her wide, dark eyes glassy, but unyielding. She was never one to cry too quickly, but the sound of her eldest son's coughing was enough to turn her absolutely pallid. "But I'm sure that Dr. Cullen will get you better soon, won't he?" She bent to kiss his curls. The boy's smile was short, ending far before the eyes that watched Carlisle just a little too long. 

"I'm sure he will, mother," the boy flashed a quick smile to his mother, more genuine this time. It was a nice smile, wide and so overcome with love in how it wrinkled his straight nose, the doctor couldn't help but smile in kind.

Carlisle looked to Mrs. Masen and grasped her shoulder. "He is in good hands," he said. But the doubts were there in how his hand lingered on her shoulder, how his eyes looked a tad too steady. She knew him well, replying with a squeeze of his hand, a bite of her tongue. 

"I'm sure he is, Carlisle," her voice came softly. She pulled in for a moment, and Carlisle shuddered at her grip. "You better save him, Carlisle...some way, some how--"

Carlisle took her hand, squeezing tight, as he replied with a firm nod. "Give Edward Senior my regards, Margaret."

The glassiness of her eyes rippled, though her nod back was just as firm. She bat her lashes thrice, and then she was off with a quick kiss to her son, and Carlisle was left with a promise he was almost certain he could not keep. He looked to the boy, who looked at him back with a peculiar gravity. He managed a smile, however it did not reach the eyes, and Carlisle responded in kind, his smile just as tight, though it lasted just a moment longer, as he took a breath in, and braced himself for his latest case, as any good doctor should. 

"Good morning, Edward," Carlisle sat at the foot of the adolescent's bed. "How are we feeling today?"

The youth shrugged. "Incredibly tired, if I must be honest." His eyes were downcast, his skin pale. Carlisle watched the other's throat roll down before the youth regained the nerve to look the man in the eye again. "I've read that the Spanish Flu is deadly serious, Dr. Cullen." He licked his lower lip. Carlisle noted that it was cracked, bloody. "Do...do you think I'll get better?"

And there came the question of the year. In the springtime, perhaps a positive outcome was more likely. But now as the leaves began to turn, so did the people's health. Carlisle could have lied. He didn't prefer it, but he took an oath to do no harm, and sometimes a thin, white lie at the beginning dealt the least of it. But the Masen child seemed like a bright one, and with that shrewd gaze, Carlisle could tell that lying would do nothing to alleviate the ills of the boy's mind. 

"I am going to be honest with you, Edward..." the doctor began, reaching for the boy's hand, finding it too hot to the touch. "I do not know. But I can promise that I will do everything in my power to get you better. Am I clear?"

Edward smiled once again, though this time it just briefly touched his shapely nose, just barely creased it. Carlisle pressed the boy's warm hand between his own, and the boy did not pull it away. 

"We will start with fifteen grams of aspirin," the doctor spoke in a hush, as he stood with a balletic grace and pushed himself back. "Nurse!" he called. "Get a damp cloth for this boy's head."

 _A damp cloth for my own..._ thought Carlisle, as he darted into the corridor, trying to put the youth's blood-tipped lips out of his mind. Like jewels, they looked, so inviting to taste. Was his fatigue so great that he had forgotten his oath to _do no harm?_ What a fool he was, for vampirism and _primum non nocere_ were almost oxymorons! And still he found himself repeating that phrase under his breath as he clutched to a doorframe. _Primum non nocere. First, do no harm._


End file.
